Page 191 of Juliet & Her Romeos

Olivia’s expression hardens. “If you won’t stop them flying dangerously close to the sun, dear, then I must for your sake andtheirs. You’ll thank me. You’re making a mistake letting a strong Beta like him dance in the contest. Do you know what would happen, if I were to cut his tendons…just…here?”

At the light touch of the blade, Swan’s cheek twitches.

Sweat drips down from my forehead into my eyes. My muscles are screaming at me to drop my pose but I don’t because I won’t risk pushing Olivia into slashing Swan.

Is she really going to do this?

Is she simply trying to see if she can make Ambrose break?

Ambrose launches himself to his feet, at the same time as Vito does.

“Perhaps, you’re right.” Ambrose’s voice, however, is as icy as his mom’s. “What do you think, Swan?”

Swan doesn’t reply.

Fuck.

This can’t be happening.

Ambrose is bluffing.

I know that he’s bluffing.

But is Olivia?

“And to answer your question, he’d bleed all over the expensive floor of your lounge.” Ambrose arches his brow.

“He’d never dance again.” When it’s Olivia who breaks, losing her control and growling, I can’t quite hide the thrill of triumph, despite the terror that her words inspire. “Or properly walk. But he’d be held fully under your control. Should I do it?”

She’s trapped Ambrose.

He can’t say yes.

And if he says no, then he’s challenging her authority. Our scheme to take on these dangerous, powerful people would be over before it’d begun.

No wonder it’s taken Ambrose this many years to be allowed back to England.

Olivia is wily.

“Do it,” Swan forces himself to say, taking the decision out of Ambrose’s hands. He’s trembling, and his eyes look wild. But his voice is steady. “I’ll do whatever’s best for the people I love.”

And hell, I know that’s true.

When Olivia raises the sword, I drop out of my pose and throw myself toward Swan.

Fuck the plan.

Fuck justice, saving the world, and even freedom.

Swan comes first.

Yet Swan doesn’t move an inch to save himself.

At the last moment, however, Olivia twists and slashes the sword down on the pile of cushions on the couch.

I scream.

Feathers are thrown up into the air like snow.

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